


Together We'll Brave The Dark

by 14million_constellations



Series: Baby Mine [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: AU, Age Jumps, Asthma, Aunt Pepper, Baby, Baby Peter, Biological son Peter, Comfort, Crying, Cute, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Hurt, I basically ripped up canon and reassembled it the way I want, IronMan2, Irondad, Ironfamily, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Kinda sorta canon, Major time skips, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pre-Iron Man 1, Quentin Beck Being a Jerk, Separation Anxiety, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, Time Jump, Time Skips, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark IS Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark is a great dad, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Uncle Happy, Uncle Rhodey, Writing Tony as a Dad is Maybe the Best Thing I Have Ever Done, air planes, bio family au, biological dad tony, ironman - Freeform, ironman3, quentin beck - Freeform, spiderson, use of nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:22:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22658515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/14million_constellations/pseuds/14million_constellations
Summary: “Don’t worry about me, I’ve sat through worse. Just glad to see the little guy okay.”Tony followed Rhodey back to his seat and sat down, keeping Peter tucked in his arms. Pepper flashed a reassuring smile. Happy looks up from his book before saying, “What was it someone once said about babies on airplanes?...”“Not a word, Hap,” Tony retaliates.or:No matter what happens, Tony always brings his boy home.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Baby Mine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546204
Comments: 16
Kudos: 386





	1. 2001

The trip to the private airport was uneventful, and as soon as the car was parked, Tony was throwing open his door and running around to the opposite side. He was careful when opening Peter’s door though, as he had just gotten his son to sleep before they left, and he planned on keeping it that way. 

“You good, Boss?” Happy asks, watching Tony as the billionaire strategically maneuvers the car seat out of the vehicle. 

“Yep,” Tony says softly, his eyes never leaving Peter as the baby continues to sleep. “Yep, yep, yep. All good. Hap, can you…?” 

Happy picks up on the unsaid request and moves towards the trunk, “You got it.” 

Knowing that the bags were going to be taken care of, Tony starts towards the plane; Peter’s car seat in one hand, a stocked diaper bag slung over the other shoulder. 

If the Tony from nine months ago could have seen the future, he would have thrown up because of how domestic future Tony looked. 

“I would imagine traffic was terrible judging by how long it took you to get here,” Pepper says as Tony approaches her. 

“Not my fault that you think people need to arrive six hours early to catch a plane,” he says, stopping and allowing himself a second to adjust the bag strap cutting into his shoulder. “Also, we had to make a little detour. We had an accident.” 

Pepper’s eyes widen slightly. “Someone hit the car?” 

“What? God, no, Pep. Peter had an accident. We had to pull over so I could change him.” Tony laughs, although Pepper doesn't seem to share his humor. “I know who I’m hiring; Happy would never get in an accident.” 

Pepper shakes her head, and Tony pats her on the shoulder before starting up the steps leading into the plane.

“Oh, Pep,” Tony says, suddenly turning and looking down. Pepper looks up, obviously anticipating the worst. “Please get someone to help Happy with the luggage. I know he’s gonna have trouble with Peter’s play-crib.” 

At that moment, a loud snapping noise can be heard, and Happy cries out in anger, cursing loudly. 

“Called it!” Tony announces before ducking into the jet. 

Rhodey was already sitting in one of the seats, his nose buried in a newspaper, but he looks up just as Tony places Peter’s car seat down on one of the chairs. Tony keeps his eyes trained on his son as Rhodey stands and walks over to his friend. 

“I think he’ll be okay, Tones,” Rhodey says as Tony adjusts Peter’s hat for the fifth time. 

“I just don’t want him to be cold, Rhodey.” 

“I know, but it’s warm enough in here. Pete will be fine.” 

Tony frowns, giving the hat one more gentle tug before pulling his hands away. “Okay, fine. I’ll stop.” 

Rhodey smiles, walking back over to his seat. “Nothing about you in the papers yet. I’m surprised that no one spotted you in the city.” 

“Yeah, well that might be because I paid off the two reporters who were going to print something. Caught them just in time. Besides, every doctor signed a non-discretion contract.” Tony sits down in his seat, sneaking a glance at Peter still snoozing. “I’m not letting them get their hands on him just yet… I need more time with him being ours.” 

“I know, Tones,” Rhodey says from across the aisle. “He’ll always be your baby. You don’t have to worry about that.” 

“I know, I know,” Tony says, leaning against the armrest. “It’s just-- God, Rhodey, it’s hard for me to believe how much I love him.” 

Rhodey chuckles, “Trust me, Tones, it’s harder for me to even believe that he is actually yours. Sometimes I still see you as that confused fifteen-year-old on his first day at MIT.” 

“It’s only been sixteen years.” 

_ “Only,” _ Rhosey scoffs, “that’s still a long time to be tied down with you, Stark.” 

“Oh come on, you love me, Honey Bear.” Tony smiles and leans towards Rhodey, watching as his friend tries to fight off a grin. 

“What are you two bickering about?” Happy asks as he lumbers into the plane, Pepper on his heels.

“Nothing new,” Rhodey answers, opening his paper again. 

“I swear, it’s like an old married couple with these two,” Happy remarks to Pepper as she takes her seat. 

“Don’t I know it,” Pepper says before pulling out a laptop and started to type away softly. 

It takes another half an hour before the plane is safe to fly, and during that time, Peter never rouses, so Tony has hope. But that is before he remembered what happened when the altitude changes. 

Peter starts to cry as soon as the plane enters the clouds. Tony can sense everyone on the plane instantly tense, and he doesn't miss when Happy hides his frown in his mystery novel. 

“Hey, hey, hey Baby,” Tony says, unbuckling Peter as quickly as he can and pulling the sobbing child into his arms. “Bubba, I’m here.” 

Peter doesn't seem to notice the contact and continues to scream. Tony bounces him, shushing the child under his breath, but it falls on deaf (and hurting) ears. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispers to Rhodey before speed walking towards the bathroom. 

He slides the washroom door shut with his heel, hoping to dampen the noise while trying to console Peter. “Peter, it’s okay, Bub. It’s okay.” 

He immediately tries to start pacing, as that is what he has done with Peter before, but the bathroom is smaller than any closet he owns, and he can’t take two steps before having to stop and spin around. 

“I really need to get a jet with a bigger bathroom,” he mutters to himself against his son’s wailing. 

Finally, he slowly leans up against the back wall and sinks to the floor. Tony tucks Peter closer to his chest, trying to give the baby as much comfort as he can. 

“I know it hurts, Petey. Planes are mean like that-- it hurt me too. But it will be over soon, I promise,” Peter just hiccups on a sob, his tiny fingers clenching on Tony’s shirt like a lifeline. “I know, Bubba, I know.” 

It takes a few grueling minutes, but Peter’s sobs eventually turn to slow cries, and then to a sparse hiccup, and then to the snuffly noises he makes in sleep. Tony smiles, just watching as Peter continues to hold onto his father. With his free hand, Tony reaches over and wipes a few tears from his son’s cheeks. 

“Tony?” A voice asks outside the door. It is suddenly being slid open, and Tony shushes Rhodey from where the colonel towers above the billionaire. “Sorry. Are you okay?” 

“We are now. I totally forgot about how his ears would pop. I would have given him a pacifier otherwise. Sorry about that.” 

“Don’t worry about me, I’ve sat through worse. Just glad to see the little guy okay.” 

Tony followed Rhodey back to his seat and sat down, keeping Peter tucked in his arms. Pepper flashed a reassuring smile. Happy looks up from his book before saying, “What was it someone once said about babies on airplanes?...” 

“Not a word, Hap,” Tony retaliates. 

\----

Tony ends up drifting off while watching Peter sleep. He normally never naps, but that just proves how tired he must have been if he didn’t stop himself before it was too late. 

He wakes up to Peter whimpering. 

Tony’s eyes snap open, and he instantly realizes that the familiar weight isn’t in his arms. “Peter,” Tony says, his gaze darting around the plane in search of his child. “Peter!” 

“Tony, it’s okay,” Rhodey says, and Tony looks over to see his best friend bouncing Peter lightly. “He’s right here.” 

“Peter,” Tony gasps in relief, jumping from his chair and falling to his knees beside Rhodey. Peter wasn’t crying yet, but his face was scrunching up in the way that it did before he started to wail. 

“We’re landing,” Rhodey says, letting Tony know the reason the baby was on the verge of tears. 

“Pacifier,” Tony says more to himself and reaches into the diaper bag. He pulls out the soother and nudges it into Peter’s mouth. Instantly, the baby’s tiny features relax. 

“I took him as soon as you fell asleep,” Rhodey informs, “neither of you even stirred. He was good, though. Slept the whole time.” 

Tony smiles, reaching one hand over to lay on Peter’s stomach gently. Peter kicks out a tiny foot, blinking up at his uncle. 

“How long was I out?” Tony asks.

“Just over an hour. You must have been tired. I don’t think I’ve seen you take a nap in years.” 

“Pete kept me up all night. Wouldn’t stop crying,” Tony runs a hand down his face, and he realizes that he could fall back asleep at this moment if Rhodey told him too. “Apparently it was because he missed me. And yeah, I know that’s beyond adorable, so wipe that look off your face, Platypus.” 

Rhodey tries and fails at hiding his grin, and Tony just rolls his eyes, slinking back over to his seat and falling into the faux leather. 

“Do you want him?” Rhodey asks but makes no gesture to hand Peter over. 

“Nah, I’ll have him soon enough,” Tony says, trying to keep his eyes from falling shut. “I think what people say is true. Parents really got it rough.” 

“You’ve been a parent for a week.” 

“Still… I might just fall over. Will you catch me if I fall over, Rhodey?” 

Rhodey chuckles, “That would be quite a feat if I could catch you and keep your baby from hitting the ground.” 

“I expect nothing less--” 

“You better not fall over,” Pepper cuts in, saying her first words since the plane took off. “People will be waiting for us --  _ important _ people -- and if you faint on the tarmac, I swear, the papers will be broadcasting you as a narcoleptic by tomorrow morning.” 

Rhodey and Tony exchange wide-eyed, humored glances. 

“Well, you heard the boss,” Tony says, “no falling asleep on the job.” 

The plane lands with a skid and a bump, and bless everything above, Peter didn’t cry once. He fussed slightly when placed in the car seat, but Tony was able to calm him quickly with a few soothing words and by running the back of his finger down the baby’s temple. 

“That’s it, Bubba,” Tony whispers, “we’re okay. Don’t worry.” 

The hot, California sun beats down on Tony as soon as he steps out of the plane, and he pulls his sunglasses on instantly. With the diaper bag and carseat in tow, he was hoping to maintain his usual genius-billionaire-playboy deminer for the few strangers who were watching him depart. 

He doesn't pay any of them any mind while strutting past, but he does stop when he approaches Obie. The older man smiles down at Tony, although it looked forced, and Tony can’t help but feel trapped in his shadow. 

“Anthony,” Obie says, and Tony bites back any response about his name. “Glad to see you back.” 

Peter suddenly makes a curious, babbling sound, and both men look down towards the car seat. Peter blinks up at them from behind the visor, and an expression that looks like the opposite of joy passes over Obie’s face. 

“And who do we have here?” Obie asks, continuing to stare down at the child. 

“This is my son, Peter,” Tony says, not hiding his smile. 

“Future CEO, I presume?” Obie asks, his words laced with humor. “Passing the torch? That’s what I like to see, Anthony.” 

“We’ll just have to wait and find out,” Tony says, not adding the words that he was actually thinking.  _ There is no way in hell that I am ever letting Peter get near the weapons that we produce, Obie.  _

“Well, he sure is a handsome boy… tiny though,” Obie places a hand on Tony’s shoulder, and he’s staring too intently at Peter to catch the scowl Tony is sending him. “Nevertheless… I’m proud of you.” 

“Thanks, Obie,” Tony forces himself to say. 

Obie pats him once more, making Tony feel slightly like a dog, and Tony immediately sets off towards the car. He ignores the stares he is getting as he takes longer than necessary to secure Peter’s seat, and then falls into his own spot with a tired sigh. 

Happy climbs into the front, while Pepper gets into the passenger seat. 

“Home, James,” Tony mumbled, staring out the window. 

“I’m not a driver,” Happy grumbles. 

“And yet you are driving me home,” Tony remarks. Pepper gives a huffy laugh. “Sorry, how about: Please Happy, my dear friend, will you take my son and my tired bones home?” 

“Sure, if I must.” 

The car falls into silence, and Pepper only speaks up when they are a good distance from the airport. “So Obie seemed nice.” 

Tony just grunts under his breath. 

“He’s trying.” 

“Well, he should try harder.” 

Pepper gets dropped off first since her apartment is closer, and Tony watches as she struts up to her front door and is greeted by her doorman, Marcus, before turning and waving one final goodbye to the car. Tony only allows Happy to drive away once she's safely inside. 

“Thanks, Hap,” Tony says once the bags are inside. 

“Anytime, Boss,” Happy smiles, and for the first time in a while, it’s genuine. “Now please, go inside, get that Kid to sleep, and then take a well-deserved nap. We both know that life isn’t going to get easier from here.” 

“Yeah, of course. See you soon.” Tony pats the roof of the car, and then Happy is taking off down the street. Tony turns and trudges up the driveway. 

Once inside, Tony looks around at the open concept and sighs. He remembers buying this house and thinking about how empty it was. Thinking about how unnecessary it was that the living room took over most of the first and second story; how the floors were made of marble; how the kitchen island rivaled his childhood dining table in size. 

How big and open everything was when he was only one person. 

But now there were two. 

Tony looks down at his son who was sleeping in his car seat. His itty-bitty fingers twitch and his chest rises and falls rhythmically. Tony melts. 

For the first time, his life finally wasn’t feeling so empty. 


	2. 2008

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have decided what I'm going to do with this fic:  
> Each of the next three chapters will focus on Peter's side of the Iron Man movies. Today, we focus on the one that started it all.

Everyone, including himself, had tried to convince Tony that Peter’s separation anxiety was never the billionaire’s fault. 

But just like Peter’s anxieties plagued him, Tony’s own self-doubt was like a cloud that constantly hung over his head. In the seven years, Peter had been alive, Tony had tried his best to not leave him longer than necessary. 

Sure, of course, there were those few inescapable times where business would come up and Tony would have to cart himself off to a separate city, state or even country, but as soon as he was free to go, he was on the next plane home and pulling his panic-stricken child into his aching embrace. 

So now, despite Tony’s own pleading and disapproval, Obie was sending him to Afghanistan to give a weapons demonstration. 

“Why me?” Tony asked as soon as Obie had told him. 

“Why not you?” Obie shoots back, his eyes on his computer monitor. His attention obviously only partly divided. 

“Because I don’t want to go.” 

Obie turns his gaze for a second, one eyebrow raised, and he gives an exasperated sigh. “Now you just sound like a child, Anthony.” 

“Just send someone else, Obie.” 

“You designed the damn thing, Stark. It needs to be you!” 

“But, Peter--” 

Obie sighed once again, but it sounded more like a growl. “God! Peter is seven; he can spend a week away from his daddy!” 

“Obie--” 

“No, you’re going. That’s final.” 

Tony wasn’t the only person mad about it. As he walked around his room, pulling suits and ties out of his closet to put in a suitcase, Peter sat on his bed and watched sorrowfully. 

“You don’t have to go,” the boy says, his voice low. 

They had had this conversation before. Peter already knew that he wasn’t going to win, but Tony didn’t fight him when his son brought it back up. 

“You know I do, Pete.” 

“Obie can’t force you.” 

Tony laughs under his breath. “Sorry to break it to you bud, but he can. And he is.” 

Peter frowned, looking down at the blanket he sat on and started picking at the fabric. Tony paused in his packing to watch his boy, his heart only squeezing once or twice at the expression Peter wore. 

“It won’t be all that bad, Pete. Aunt Pepper will take care of you. You’ll have fun. Uncle Happy already said he would take you to the zoo-- maybe even the aquarium if you beg enough.” 

Tony walked over to Peter and sat down next to him, pulling the boy into his side. Peter sighed, his voice sounding choked up. 

“It’s not as fun without you,” Peter mumbled, turning his face into Tony’s chest. 

“I know, bud, but I will call every day. Especially at night; I know my Petey needs his good-night wishes. I promise.” 

Peter nods. The boy’s arms wrap around Tony’s torso as much as they will allow, and he pulls himself closer into his father. 

“It will be over before you know it,” Tony says, leaning down and kissing the top of the boy’s head; breathing in the fresh scent lingering in his curls. “You’ll see. Time will fly by.” 

\----

Time definitely didn’t fly by. 

His Dad had said he would be gone a week; hopefully less if he could cut out a few of the shorter meetings. But Peter had been counting down the days. From the moment the plane took off, he had crossed off every space on his mental calendar. 

Today was day eight. Still no Dad. 

When he asked Aunt Pepper, she smiled and said that his plane was probably just delayed. Peter had no choice but to believe her. Dad had promised that he would be back in a week, and he never broke a promise. 

He didn’t get a phone call. No good-night wishes. Aunt Pepper had tried to put him to bed, but even she seemed off, and Peter had laid in the dark after she’d gone, watching the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling and letting hot tears roll down his temples. 

He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he woke up to panicked voices that were failing at staying quiet. Peter carefully slipped out of bed, his curiosity getting the better of him, and crept down the hallway. 

Aunt Pepper was standing in the middle of the living room, her back to him and her free hand waving around as if she was swatting a fly. She was talking to someone on the phone. She sounded worried, and if she was scared, so was Peter. 

“What do you mean, Rhodey?” Pepper says, her fist clenching. “No, no-- I heard that! It’s just… no, you said-- no, Rhodes listen to me! What do you mean, he’s _missing?”_

Peter’s eyes widen, and he has to stop himself from calling out to his aunt. She seems to not even notice him behind her. 

“How long, Rhodey?” Pepper asks, her voice low. “How long has he been gone?... _eleven hours!_ Fuck, Rhodes, why would you wait eleven hours to tell me that he’s missing? Peter’s been asking all day when his dad is going to get home, and now-- no, no, we can’t tell him yet--” 

When Peter lets out an involuntary whimper, Pepper spins around and stares at him with wide eyes, suddenly realizing that Peter had heard her conversation. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Pepper says, hanging up and setting her phone down. 

Peter now notices the tears streaming down his face. He wipes at the with a shaky hand, but they continue to fall. When he looks up, Aunt Pepper is kneeling in front of him, and he chokes back a sob as she pulls him into her arms. 

“It’s okay, Petey,” she says softly, but Peter’s chest constrict. That’s Dad’s nickname for him, not her’s. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

_No, no it’s not. It’s not gonna be okay. He’s gone. He promised._

Peter can’t find his voice, but the sobs overtake him, and he throws his arms around her neck. When he buries his face into her neck, he tries to imagine that it’s Dad that he’s hugging, but it doesn't feel right. 

Dad smells like coffee, motor oil, and balsam. His hugs are tight but warm, and his goatee always feels scratchy against Peter’s face. 

Aunt Pepper smells like mint and berries, and her arms are too thin, so her hugs make Peter feel exposed. Dad always protects his baby boy. 

Peter continues to sob on the hardwood, and when Aunt Pepper’s own tears drip into his hair, he doesn't mention it. Peter tries to tell her, but his voice is muffled by her shirt. 

_“He promised.”_

\----

Two weeks. 

Two weeks of not talking at school; of going home and hiding in his room; of crying himself to sleep; of listening to his Aunt and Uncles fighting about him and his dad. Two weeks of feeling sadder than he ever thought possible. 

“Honey?” Aunt Pepper had asked on the fifteenth day, pushing open his door and letting light snake into his darkness. “Dinner is ready.” 

Peter sat on his bed, his back pressed against the wall, as he watched the afternoon sun disappear over the California horizon. He had one of Tony’s shirts in his hands (the one displaying the large _SNL_ logo) and he looked away when Pepper gave him a look of pity. 

“Peter?” She asks again. 

“I’m not hungry,” Peter says, his voice hoarse. 

“Honey,” Pepper watches as Peter stiffens, and then she sighs. “Okay, I’ll just leave your plate on your desk.” 

She steps into the room, puts down the plate, and leaves, taking his dish from the day before as she goes. The room slowly fills with the smell of spaghetti. Peter watches as the last remains of sunlight disappear beyond the city. 

He presses Dad’s shirt to his face, inhaling deeply and trying to mask the temptation of dinner from across the room. He ignores the tears dribbling down his cheeks and focuses on California, now shrouded in darkness. 

\----

Uncle Rhodey tried his best on day seventeen. 

“We were thinking of going to the aquarium,” he says as he leans against the door frame. There was no school today and his room was bright. Peter blinks at his uncle sleepily. “I know how much that always cheers you up.” 

“I don’t feel that good,” Peter lies. 

“Yeah?” Uncle Rhodey asks, soundly slightly desperate. 

“Yeah.” 

The man walks into the room, sitting down on Peter’s bed. The mattress dips with his weight, and Peter tries not to move. Uncle Rhodey places the back of his hand gently on Peter’s forehead, and Peter leans into the touch. 

“Hmm, you feel a little warm.” 

He wasn’t. Rhodey forces a smile, and Peter appreciates his Uncle lying to himself for his nephew's benefit. 

“Let’s just stay in today,” Uncle Rhodey says, standing slowly. “The aquarium can wait.” 

Peter nods. Rhodey lingers for a second, before sighing and closing the door behind him. Peter closes his eyes, hoping they won’t open for a while. 

\----

At the one month marker, Peter started talking outside of his house. 

He also agreed to go to the aquarium. They had to leave after an hour though because he saw a boy his age wandering around with his dad and watching the jellyfish. That is Peter and Tony’s favorite spot. 

Peter still had hope. 

\----

At two months, he started accepting Aunt Pepper hugs as the new Dad Hugs. 

Her arms were still too thin, but she wasn’t afraid to hold him close anymore, and it felt warmer than before. 

Uncle Happy smiled more now, but they always looked forced. Before, it was always Tony that would be the one to get him to smile. Uncle Happy’s smiles from before were always genuine. 

Now they all seemed to be for Peter’s benefit. As much as the boy wanted to be reassured by it; they always seemed to be a reminder of what they had lost. 

He was losing hope. 

\----

Peter laughed for the first time at three months. 

He was able to say Tony’s name without dissolving into a fit of tears. 

He still got nightmares though, and the aquarium was still a no-go. But he was feeling a little bit better… _maybe all of my tears ran out,_ Peter would sometimes think to himself when he actually caught himself being happy. But then that theory would be proved wrong again when he found himself curled up in his uncle’s arms and sobbing until his eyes burned. 

As much as he wanted it to stay, hope had left him. 

\----

He had been in school when Uncle Happy and Aunt Pepper came to pick him up. 

They seemed excited, but Peter didn’t know why. It wasn’t his birthday, and he didn’t think it was their birthday… It definitely wasn’t Christmas. 

“What’s going on?” He asked from the backseat. 

Aunt Pepper seemed to be bouncing in her seat. “It’s a surprise.” 

“Yeah, bud,” Uncle Happy says, stealing a glance at his nephew in the rear view mirror. “But you’re gonna love it. Don’t worry.” 

They drove for a long time. Finally, when they pulled their car into some remote military base, Peter was beyond confused. He was worried. What could they ever find here? 

There was this giant airplane sitting on the runway, and Aunt Pepper quickly got out of the car to open Peter’s door. He unbuckled his seat belt, staring up at her with scared eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” she reassured once more. “It’s okay.” 

She took his hand and started towards the plane. Uncle Happy grabbed his other hand, and then they were hustling. Peter was almost skipping to keep up with their long strides, and they seemed to be in a hurry. 

_What could ever be so important?_

They finally stopped at least thirty feet from the plane, it’s giant door still closed, and Peter watched Pepper and Happy as they stared at the aircraft with intense eyes. 

Finally, the plane opened, and Peter watched Aunt Pepper quickly get more excited before letting out a tearful gasp. She squeezed his hand tighter. Even Uncle Happy was crying. Peter was scared. 

The boy kept his eyes trained on his red sneakers, listening as a bunch of people started talking at once. His heart was beating so fast, he thought it might jump right out of his chest and fall onto the pavement. 

But then someone suddenly said, _“Welcome home, Mr. Stark,”_ and Peter’s head whipped up in shock. 

There, walking down the airplane’s ramp, was Uncle Rhodey and… 

“DAD!” Peter screamed. 

His Aunt and Uncle’s grip tightened as Tony looked over to his son. Tears were streaming down Peter’s cheeks. He couldn't believe it. 

“Dad!” Peter shouted once more, and the biggest smile stretched across Tony’s face. 

Peter tried to pull his hands away, and once he was free, he was running as fast as he could. He weaved around the legs of military officers and EMTs, and soon enough the only person in front of him was his dad. 

He didn’t waste one minute. 

He leaped into Tony’s waiting arms and clutched onto the man tighter than he ever had before. He cried more than he ever did in the past three months, his face hiding away in the crook of Tony’s neck. 

Tony ran his hands up and down his boy’s back, and Peter could feel it as Tony shook along with him, the man’s own tears seeping into Peter’s curls. 

_“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”_ Peter mumbled, not believing any of this. 

_“Petey, Petey, Petey…”_ His dad answered, his mouth pressed against the boy’s temple. “Oh, _Bubba.”_

Peter felt it as they both sunk to the ground, Tony holding him close and curling around the child, shielding him from the prying eyes. 

“I’m so, so, so, so, so, so, sorry,” Tony says, his voice catching on a sob. _“So sorry.”_

“You _promised,”_ Peter says because it’s the only thing he can think of. 

“I know, Baby, and I’m _so sorry.”_

“It’s okay,” Peter finally whispers. “You’re back now.” 

\----

If Peter’s separation anxiety was bad before, it was nothing compared to now. From the moment Tony stepped out of that plane, Peter wouldn’t leave his father’s side. 

But Tony couldn’t blame him -- if he was being honest, he didn’t want to ever let his baby go again. So, for the next few months, Tony would spend as much time as he could with Peter, and then as soon as the boy’s eyes would fall shut, Tony would sneak away to work on the newest mark of the Iron Man suits. 

Everything was going as well as it could, and Tony had fallen back into a routine. 

Wake up, make Peter breakfast, get him off to school, work on stuff for SI, pick up Peter from school, spend the evening with him, and work on the suits after putting his son to sleep. 

The only thing Tony actually worried about was Peter’s reaction to the arch reactor. Everyone else already knew what it was and how it worked, but Peter never brought it up. 

Tony definitely caught him staring, but as soon as they made eye contact Peter would look away and change the subject. So if his son didn’t want to talk about it, Tony would wait until he was ready. 

Except, right now in this very moment, that same arch reactor was being yanked out of Tony’s chest, and the only thing Tony could think about was how he wouldn’t even be alive to see his son wake up the next morning, let alone explain the mechanics of his handmade lifeline. 

“Easy now, Tony,” Obie says, holding the device in his hand. “Try to breathe.” 

Tony hadn’t even realized that he was borderline hyperventilating. The only thing he could think about is how he hoped that Peter was fast asleep in bed, and stayed that way. 

“Your heart will be the seed of the next generation of weapons,” Obie drones on, turning the reactor in his hands, mesmerized. They’ll help us steer the world back in the right direction-- too bad you had to involve Pepper in this… I would have loved to see her live.” 

Tony’s eyes widen, and before he can bite his tongue, Obie is ripping the device from its socket and Tony grunts, low and full of pain. 

The next few minutes are a blur of pain as Tony tries to push past the paralyzation and not let himself die on his sofa. If Peter found him like that -- there would be no coming back for the boy. 

Obie eventually leaves, and Tony only notices after he has taken back partial control of his body. He pulls himself off the couch and drags himself towards the workshop. At first, he believes that he is at the end… but then, he sees it. His saving grace. 

The first arc reactor sitting on his countertop in its stupid display case. 

Dum-E swats it to him, and as Tony smashes the glass on the floor, the only thought running through his head is: _For Peter._

\----

His Dad was gone again. 

Peter woke up to Uncle Rhodey running through the mansion and screaming, “Tony! _Tony!”_

“Uncle Rhodey?” Peter asked, walking out of his room. “What’s going on?” 

“Peter,” Rhodey falls to his knees in front of the boy. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” 

“No, what…?” Peter asks, staring at his uncle, confused. “I’m okay. What are you talking about?” 

“Nothing, nothing…” Uncle Rhodey stood up abruptly and started down the stairs. “Stay up there! Uncle Happy is on his way!” 

Peter watched Rhodey race down the stairs, shouting for his dad once again. Peter couldn’t help but feel scared; the last time he saw Rhodey like this, it was after Dad had gone missing. 

Peter was following his uncle before he could stop himself. 

The boy descended the steps slowly, his heartbeat loud in his ears. The door to his dad’s lab was left wide open, and the sight that greeted sucked the breath from his lungs. 

His dad was sprawled out on the floor, his shirt ripped and hair tousled, and Uncle Rhodey kneeled beside his friend, looking panicked. The colonel was mumbling something that should have been reassuring, but Peter couldn’t help his tears. 

“Daddy?” Peter asked. 

Rhodey’s head whipped around, a forced smile plastered to his face. “Peter, I told you to stay upstairs.” 

Tony suddenly groans on the floor, and Rhodey glances down at him for a split second. Peter takes a tentative step forward. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Peter asks. 

“Nothing, buddy, nothing. He’s okay.” 

Tony moans as if to disprove Rhodey’s statement. Peter whimpers out of fear. 

“Tony,” Rhodey says, helping the billionaire into a sitting position. “Tony, come on.” 

One look at his dad and Peter was racing back up the stairs. He couldn’t stand there and look at his father’s pale, sweaty face any longer. How Tony looked at his own son as if he didn’t know who he was. 

Peter didn’t wait to see if anyone would call for him. He just ran into his bedroom and dove under the covers, hiding from the world. He fell asleep alone and in tears. 

When he woke for the second time, it was to a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Petey,” the voice says, and Peter freezes. “Petey, it’s me.” 

Dad sits down on the side of his bed. When Peter doesn't respond, he sighs. “I’m sorry, Bubba. I… I didn’t mean to scare you earlier.” 

Peter turns in bed and buries his face in his dad’s stomach. Tony cards his fingers through the base of Peter’s hair, letting out a long exhale. Peter finally looks up and tries to hide his shock when he is met with a face muddled with cuts and bruises. 

Tony notices his son’s shock and cups Peter’s cheek gently. “I’m okay, Bub. Don’t worry. I just had to take care of some stuff, but it’s done now.” 

“You’re back?” 

“I’m back and I’m staying.” 

They were quiet for a second before Peter whispers, “What did you have to do?” 

“Um…” Tony takes a pause before saying, “well, you know this light that I now have in my chest?” 

Peter nods. 

“Well, someone wanted it because he thought it was cool, but I need it. It helps to keep me alive. And last night… well, that man got my light. That’s why I was on the floor when Uncle Rhodey found me. But I got it back.” 

“Did you stop the guy who stole your light?” 

Tony smiles and rubs the nape of Peter’s neck. “You bet I did.” 

“Were you like a superhero taking down a villain?” 

Tony pulls his boy into his arms, kissing the side of his face. “Definitely.” 

“Like Batman and the Joker,” Peter says, a smile creeping across his face. 

Tony scoffs, “I think I’m cooler than Batman.” 

“In your dreams, Dad!” 

Tony hugs Peter tighter, pressing his cheek to the crown of his son’s head. Peter sighs happily and wraps his arms around his dad’s torso. 

“I’m glad you're back, Dad.” 

“Me too, Bubba, me too.”


	3. 2013

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, you didn't miss a chapter... we are skipping over IM2 due to lack of inspiration. 
> 
> Instead, we are jumping right into IronMan 3.

The bomb hits first, and the ringing attacks second. 

It fills Tony’s ears with an intensity he hasn’t felt since Afghanistan. The sound almost knocks him off his feet, but in the end, what really ends up tipping him over is the floor falling out from under him. 

“Tony!” 

He can almost make out Pepper’s scream over the noise, but then she’s gone. Tony is too focused on running away from the growing hole in his mansion, to think about where Pepper’s voice went. 

Once he’s on solid ground, he lets himself take a second of deep breathing before raising a hand and calling the suit. The ringing starts to die out, and suddenly he can see farther than a few feet ahead of him. The sight of Pepper fills his vision, and without a second thought, he aims for her and then she is being encased in the IronMan suit. 

_ She’s okay now,  _ a voice in his mind tells him, relieved. 

Next, he moves to find Maya. She’s lying unconscious a few dozen feet away, and before Tony can move over to help her, the ceiling gives a low groan and Tony’s flat on his back, staring into the face of the Mark 42. 

“I got you,” Pepper’s voice is slightly tinny but still comforting. 

“I got you first,” Tony says, moving out of the way and jumping to his feet. “We gotta get out of here. I’m fine, but get her.” He points over at Maya, and Pepper follows his orders without hesitation. 

He watches her fly out of the building, but that doesn't help the fact that his own house was falling apart at the seams and sinking into the ocean below. He stares at the fracturing floor nervously, before JARVIS gives him the all-clear. 

With one hand raised, the suit flies back towards him in record pace, and then he is the one being engulfed in titanium alloy. With a new fury, he starts to take down the helicopters hovering close by.  _ One, two…  _

But right before he can hit three, he’s submerged underwater, and the feeling of drowning clouds his mind. He knows he’s being protected, but he can’t help but imagine water slipping past the cracks of his mask and pouring down his throat, filling his chest with liquid and leaving him at the bottom of the ocean. 

He watches debris -- pieces of his  _ home _ \-- fall towards him, and then JARVIS’s voice is in his ear. “Sir, take a deep breath.” 

Tony stares up at the surface, rippling with sunlight. 

“Flight power now restored, Sir.” 

Tony smiles lightly to himself.  _ At least Peter’s safe.  _ Then the world winked out. 

\----

The kid was gutsy, Tony would give him that. The fact that he had brought a potato gun to ward off an attacker was something that Tony would later laugh about, but right now, it took all Tony had not to look at Harley and break into tears. The boy was all too much like Peter. 

Tony knew that everyone else in the world thought he was dead. It was on every television screen; he couldn’t pass by any electronics shop without seeing his own face plastered on every display device in the window. But that also meant that his son thought that he was dead. 

For the fourth time in his child’s very short time, Tony had risked his own life without thinking of the implications, but this time, Peter isn’t just wondering if his father is going to come home… he knows that he isn’t. 

“You okay?” Harley asked, snapping Tony out of his daydream. 

They were sitting in the corner of the alleyway. The shadows of the deceased decorated the walls in front of him like someone’s twisted idea of graffiti. Tony takes a shaky breath, his lungs struggling to pull in the cool, night air. 

He can’t help but look at the crater in front of him and think of the wormhole. How his boy sat at home and watched him carry it through the air, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. How when Tony finally stepped through his own doors, his face weary and ashen, Peter leaped into his arms and sobbed, refusing to leave his father’s embrace for the rest of the night. 

“Are you getting edgy?” Harley asked, and Tony shook his head, chuckling slightly. 

“No, I’m okay,” he says, eyes drifting away from the crater. 

“Oh, good.” 

“You know I have a son?” 

Harley’s gaze snapped towards him. “You do?” 

Tony nodded, finally starting to smile. 

“How old is he?” 

“Eleven… he’ll be twelve in August.” 

Harley looked at Tony, the child’s eyes skeptical. “Why have I never heard of this son?” 

“Because sometimes it’s nice to keep things private. Everyone who knows about him keeps him a secret, so it’s a big deal that I’m telling you about him, and you have to keep this a secret too, okay?” 

Harley nods quickly. There is a silence that falls between the two of them, but Harley is the one to break it. 

“Is your son nice?” 

Tony grins. “Yep. The nicest person I’ve ever met. You’d like him.” 

“Do you think he’d like me?” 

“You’d be best friends.” 

Harley sighed contently and looked to the shadows. “That sounds nice. Bet you can’t wait to get back to him.” 

Tony’s smile slipped away without permission, although he wouldn’t be able to get it back if he tried. “More than you know.” 

\----

On Christmas morning, Tony was standing on the stoop of the Rhodes’ family house. The door stood in front of him; slender, green, and the paint slightly peeling. A small part of him wanted to stand on the front lawn and just take in the place that he used to spend summers and school breaks in. 

But on the other side of the door, his son was morning the loss of a father who still lived out of the limelight. If anything, standing any longer on the porch would just draw more attention to the public with the fact that Tony Stark was obviously still alive. 

With a deep breath, Tony turned the handle and stepped into the house. 

He was instantly hit with the smell of something cooking that was purely homemade. The idea that he would be greeted by Roberta Rhodes warmed his chest, and he couldn’t think of better company to keep Peter with. 

“Hello?” An older woman’s voice floats out of the kitchen, and then she is walking into view. 

“Speak of the devil,” Tony says, a smile stretching across his face. 

Roberta playfully swats him across the shoulder, but her beaming expression never flickers. “Welcome home, my boy.” Tony accepts her hug instantly. 

“Where’s Platypus?” He asks, looking around at the empty house. 

“He should be getting your son,” Roberta bustles back into the kitchen. Tony follows. “Good lord, Tony, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a child as sad as your little boy. I tried to cheer him up, but it was hard without being able to tell him that you were still alive.” 

Tony sighed sorrowfully, leaning against the counter. “I know, I’m sorry. I wanted to call. Even just to let him know that I’m okay, but it was too risky. That one call to Pepper was enough… I just--” Tony sighs briefly, running a hand down his face. “It broke my heart to know that he thought I was really  _ gone.” _

Roberta turns to her pseudo-son. “Honey, there isn’t much I can say here. With this line of work you have entered, I know that you aren’t always safe, and that pains me, but it’s real. The important thing now, though, is the fact that you are back, and you are here for your son when he needs you.” 

Tony nods, his eyes misty, but at that moment, a certain voice can be heard from the stairwell. Rhodey speaks to someone, coaxing the unseen individual down from the second floor.  _ “Come on, Little Man, I know you love surprises.”  _

Tony’s heart leaps into his throat. His baby was so close, he could already feel the child’s familiar weight in his arms. He ran into the living room, watching the empty doorway with bubbling anticipation. 

“It’ll be good, I promise,” Rhodey said, finally nearing the first level. 

Tony bounced on his toes. He saw his friend first, but then the image of his eleven year-old filled his gaze and Tony had to hold back from running forward and scooping him up. 

Peter looked worse than Tony had ever seen him. Worse than after his first major asthma attack; worse than when he first saw Tony after the wormhole; worse than after Tony had returned from Afghanistan. 

Painfully, Tony would later realize that Peter looked better back then because he still had hope. Hope for something better to follow the previous tragedy. Hope that his father would learn to be less reckless. But then --  _ now _ \-- he seemed to be stripped of his hope; his innocence. That was something that Tony would never stop feeling guilty about. 

Tony and Rhodey exchanged eye contact for a moment before Rhodey nudged Peter. “Look, Bud. Look who’s here for you.” 

Slowly, Peter raised his head, and when his gaze landed on Tony, his eyes narrowed and he just stared. It lasted like that for a long minute before Tony knelt down, opening his arms invitingly. 

“Hey, Baby,” Tony says softly, and that was all it took for Peter to dissolve into sobs. 

The child ran as quickly as he could and crashed into Tony, his cries to loud to hear his father’s  _ oof, _ and wrapped his arms around the man’s neck. 

“Petey,” Tony mumbles, holding his son close and rocking him. “Petey, Petey, Petey…” 

“I. Missed. You. S-- so. Much!” Peter cried, his face pressed against Tony’s cheek. Tears dripped over his chin and seeped into Tony’s shirt, but the man couldn’t care less. 

Tony picked up Peter and walked with him over to the couch, them both falling into the cushions. Peter seemed to be clawing at the back of Tony’s shirt like he was about to fall out of his grasp. Tony made sure to hold him tighter. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, his own eyes burning. “I’m so sorry.” 

“They all s--said you we--were dead,” Peter stutters, his voice thick. 

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call you, but I had to take care of something very important.” 

“Please never leave me again,” Peter says, “it was worse than when you went away for three months. Please… please, promise me you’ll never go again!” 

Tony bit his cheek, “Baby… you know I can’t--” 

“No!” Peter cried, clawing at Tony’s shirt once again. “You can’t, Dad! You can’t go away again! I… I…” He starts to gasp for breath, and Tony can see him spiraling into an asthma attack. 

With panic, Tony shoots a glance at his friend, and Rhodey gets the hint, running back upstairs. 

“Petey, Baby, deep breathes,” Tony soothes, pulling his child away from him, cupping his cheek instead. “Come on, do it with me.” 

Peter continues to gasp, and he stares at Tony with panicked, streaming eyes. “I can’t-- D-Dad, help…” 

“Baby, one breath at a time, come on,” Tony takes a few deep breaths, showing Peter how to inhale and hold, but the boy continues to struggle. Tears bloom in Tony’s eyes. 

Rhodey appears, darting over and shoving the inhaler into Tony’s hand. Tony then holds it up to Peter’s lips, but the child is too lost in his own head to notice it’s there. 

“Sweetheart, it’s right here,” Tony says, pleading. “You’ll be okay in a few seconds, but you gotta help me.” 

Peter whimpers once, but he opens his mouth and Tony takes the chance to give him the medication. He watches as his son holds it for a long few seconds, before exhaling, and Tony runs a thumb under his eye. 

“There you go,” Tony says, smiling as Peter takes a few deep breaths. “There you go, baby.” 

“I don’t want you to go,” Peter whispers, his grip tight on Tony’s shoulder. 

“I don’t want to go either,” Tony admits. 

“Then don’t,” Peter says. 

“It’s not that easy, Petey.” 

Peter lets out a sad sigh, falling against his father. “Why do you have to make this all so complicated?” 

Tony chuckles wetly, “I ask that every day.” 

They sit in comfortable silence for a while after that. Peter resting against Tony, his cries slowly tapering off. Tony cards his hand through his baby’s curls, relishing in the warmth between them. 

After about twenty minutes or so, Rhodey shows up next to them and smiles down at his brother and nephew. “He’s asleep.” 

“I know,” Tony says, as he had noticed the minute Peter’s breathing evened out. “I don’t want to disturb him.” 

“You know, Mom told me he’s been missing so much sleep these past few days that he would probably sleep through everything.” 

Tony didn’t know if that was supposed to be reassuring or simply informative, but it didn’t make Tony feel better about this whole situation. He managed to hold Peter securely and then only struggled slightly as he stood. 

“Hey, we have dinner for you when you want it,” Rhodey says softly, stopping Tony in his tracks. 

Tony smiles, “Thanks.” Then he’s escaping to the second floor of the house. 

He puts Peter down in his bed in the guest room, running calloused fingers through his curls and smiling, wondering how he could ever imagine giving this up. 

“Dad,” Peter mumbles, raising one hand and clasping his father’s wrist loosely. “Please stay.” 

Tony wordlessly crawls into the bed, Peter hugging him closer, only half asleep. 

“Hi,” the boy whispers, his head resting on Tony’s chest. Tony stares at his features, slightly illuminated by the glow of the arc reactor. 

“Hi,” Tony mumbles back, “I love you so much.” 

“No, I love you more.” 

Tony curls around his boy. “Not possible.” 

They fall asleep together, exhaustion finally creeping up on them. Downstairs, Rhodey eats and chats with his mother, catching each other up on everything, both knowing that Tony wasn’t going to find his way downstairs that night. 

But that was okay. They could always save his food to heat up later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to end this with Tony posting something to Twitter that said: "I lived, bitch."  
> But I thought that might ruin the moment. 
> 
> Anyway, the world has been going kinda bonkers recently, and apparently, quarantine is not the cure for writer's block, so I'm sorry that this chapter is out later than the others. 
> 
> If you enjoyed, feel free to leave a comment! They always brighten my day and make me smile!


	4. 2023

“Okay… toothbrush?” 

“Yep.” 

“Toothpaste to go with it?” 

Peter held up the full tube. “Yep.” 

“How about…” Tony ran his finger down the list of items, almost all of them already checked off. “Socks?” 

“You mean all twenty pairs?” Peter chuckled, sitting down on his mattress beside the overflowing suitcase. “Yeah, I got them.” 

“Hey, I’m just trying to be prepared,” Tony says, trying to defend himself without falling victim to his kid’s priceless smirk. “It’s your first big trip alone. What if you need socks?” 

“I’m only going for a week,” Peter says. “That trip we had in Bali was longer than that, and I managed to survive without a single pair of socks.” 

Tony just stares at his list, grumbling to himself for the sheer point of messing with his son. 

“What was that?” Peter asks, smiling. 

“Nothing.” 

“Sure, now,” Peter leaps up from the mattress, lunging at his father. “What else is on this list?” 

“No!” Tony cries, spinning out of the way. “It’s mine. I handle the list!” 

Unfortunately, Tony is not equipped with superhuman abilities, so he has a harder time dodging away from the kid, and Peter has the list in his hands before Tony can figure out what happened. 

“Pajamas, jeans, shirts, sweater…” Peter reads off, his voice monotone, “wait, a  _ tennis racquet and scuba gear?  _ It’s Europe.” 

“In summer,” Tony says, “always gotta be prepared.” 

“Okay, yeah. No.” Peter grabs a pen and scratches the items off, much to Tony’s disapproval. “Dad, I’m gonna be fine.” 

“I know, I know… it’s just your first big trip alone. I want to make sure it’s great.” 

Peter’s look of exasperation switches to a smile, and then he is engulfing Tony in a hug. It’s the type of Peter Hug that Tony loves most. The one where his son wraps his arms around Tony’s torso and squeezes him tight, the teenager’s head resting on his father’s shoulder. They melt into each other. 

“It  _ will _ be great,” Peter whispers. “Don’t worry.” 

“I’m always gonna worry, Bub. I’m your dad.” 

“Okay, but… I’m gonna be fine. I promise.” 

\----

Everything was not going fine. First off, customs confiscated the banana that Tony made Peter take before he could eat it. Second, giant elemental creatures were terrorizing Europe. 

Peter sat at the bar of the pub Beck had picked, a half-drunk glass of lemonade in his gloved hands, and the mysterious superhero sitting to his left. 

“Peter,” Beck says, making Peter look away from his drink. 

“Oh, yeah? Sorry…” 

Beck shakes his head slightly, chuckling at the younger boy. “It’s fine. I just asked, what do you want?” 

“You mean to drink? I’m good with my lemon--” 

“No, no. What do you, Peter Stark, want right now?” 

Peter’s eyes narrowed slightly, confusion clouding over his tired features. “Uh… I don’t know.” 

“You gotta know. Come on.  _ Right now. _ The first thing that pops into your mind. What do you wan--” 

“To be on my trip!” Peter interrupts, surprising himself with the declaration. “I wanna be on my trip with my friends, and to see Europe, and then take the girl I like to the top of the Eiffel Tower and give her a kiss--” 

“Oh!” Beck says, his eyes widening. When Peter punches him in the arm, the man breaks into laughter. “A girl, huh? What does your dad think of that?” 

Peter feels himself growing sheepish. “Um… he doesn't know.” 

“You haven't told him?” 

“I just didn’t know how he would react. Last time I liked a girl, it didn’t really go over well.” 

Beck looks contemplative for a moment before saying, “But what about this new girl? Are you going to take her to the Eiffel Tower?” 

“I can’t,” Peter says, resting on his elbows against the bar’s countertop. 

“Why not?” 

“The-- there’s just too much responsibility,” Peter says, feeling himself starting to get worked up over the reality of his life. “With being a hero, and being Tony’s kid, and… and…” His eyes suddenly land on the EDITH glasses sitting next to him. “And with being given something like these! Something that is worth more than my house is now in my control.” 

Beck’s eyes widen when he spot’s the glasses. “Are those the EDITH glasses?” 

Peter nods. 

“Well, try them on! Gotta see how they look!” 

Peter slides them on, looking up so that Beck can get a better look. “I like ‘em!” 

“Can I be honest? They look really dumb.” 

Peter frowns, taking the glasses off and admiring them in his hands. “Why don’t you try them on?” 

Beck looks surprised. “You know I can’t--” 

“It’s fine. Dad gave them to me, and now I’m letting you wear them.” 

Cautiously, Beck takes the glasses with soft fingers and slides them up the bridge of his nose. Peter was taken aback. Beck looked good in them; almost as if they were made for his face and not Peter’s. With a deep breath, Peter knew what he needed to do. 

\----

“You’ve made a mistake,” Peter cries out, the statement directed more at himself than anyone else. His words get swallowed up by the wind in his ears, and the shots of the drones.  _ “I’ve _ made a mistake!” 

He swings through the air, flying faster than ever before. His heart raced, and for a long, dreadful moment, he wants nothing more than his father at his side. 

But his thoughts are squandered when a drone shoots right through his web, and he plummets. 

\----

Tony was going to throw up. 

He made the biggest mistake of his life letting Peter go on that trip. Now, he watched his son fight his way through a storm of robotic drones; the camera footage shaky and at a distance. 

Pepper was shouting into a phone somewhere behind him, trying to get a plane booked. Rhodey was talking to someone else, trying to figure out who would be there to arrest Beck at first notice. 

Tony couldn’t look away from the television. 

The screen only showed Peter half the time, so anytime Tony wasn’t looking at a blurry red and blue blob soaring through the air, his heart jumped. 

“Tony.” 

He looked to his best friend, who was covering the receiver of his phone. Rhodey wore an expression of worry. “Tony, the best option now is to take a suit. You gotta fly to London, even if it takes a couple of hours. Anything will be faster than a plane.” 

“What about a quinjet?” Pepper pipes up, her attention on them for a second. 

“No,” Tony says. “Fury is down there. I don’t trust him right now. He was supposed to protect Peter, but at this moment, he seems to be only protecting his hide. I’ll take a suit.” 

Uneasily, Tony stands from the couch and starts towards the lab, where he suits -- now covered in a thin layer of dust from months of disuse -- are ready and waiting. 

\----

Peter couldn’t shake the tremors of battle. 

He sits on the curb of a demolished street, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and an empty water bottle at his feet. A couple of paramedics stood close by, whispering about Peter and obviously thinking that he can’t hear him. 

“He’s obviously in shock,” one of them mumbled. Her eyes kept darting in his direction. 

He himself didn’t know if he was in shock or not, although he guessed he wouldn’t truly know if he was. All he did know is that he missed his dad with a passion, and the blanket was a poor excuse for a hug. 

The EMT’s continued whispering, and instead of telling them to fuck off like anyone else, Peter buried his head in his arms and hid his tears. He couldn’t stop shaking; Beck’s screaming face as he was dragged off by police was now engraved into his retinas. 

_ “This is your fault!”  _ Beck had shouted, his eyes blazing with a new fury.  _ “Your fucking fault! You should be dead! You and your good for nothing dad!”  _

The doors to the police vehicle had slammed in the man’s face, barley muffling his shouts and jabs. Peter had tried to block out the words, but the more he tried to ignore, the more he had realized how much of an idiot he was. 

So now -- curled up on the cracked pavement, shaking, crying, alone -- he wished more and more for an explanation of how he could have prevented this. He wished that Fury could have seen this before; how someone would have held Peter back and steered him away from Mysterio. 

Away from the man who tried to murder him only thirty minutes ago. 

The feeling of a hand on his shoulder has Peter shooting up in an instant. He gasps, shocked when his eyes land on the image of his father; the suit dissolving around the man’s frame and leaving him looking more like the person Peter knew. 

“Hey, Petey,” Tony says, his voice soft. His father kneels down so they are eye level. 

_ “Dad,” _ Peter sobs, his voice cracking. He falls into Tony’s outstretched arms. 

Tony instantly wraps his arms around his son. Peter just buries his face in the crook of his father’s neck and sobs. He doesn't care who looks now, he was with the one person who could make everything better. 

_ “Oh, baby,” _ Tony coos, pulling the child closer and running a hand up and down his son’s back.

Peter felt like a little kid again. Like the little boy who ran into his father’s arms after he returned from Afghanistan; or like the eleven-year-old who sobbed into Tony’s shirt until he had nothing left to spare. 

But this time felt so different than those other times. Those other times felt unavoidable; like something that was thrust upon him with no prior warning, and then he had to take the brunt. This time, though, it was his fault. 

Peter was the one who trusted Beck. Was the one who gave him the glasses, and was the one who left himself vulnerable when he should have seen the signs. 

That only makes him cry more. 

“It’s my fault, Dad,” Peter sobs, Tony’s motions stilting for a second. “I trusted him. He tried to kill  _ me, _ and then he said he would get  _ you. _ He-- he--” 

Peter starts to hiccup on his cries, and if he still had asthma, he would need his inhaler. 

“Baby, baby, baby…” Tony says, his voice soft. If it wasn’t for super-hearing, Peter wouldn't have heard it over his sobs. “It’s all okay now. He’s gone for good. Locked up on The Raft, okay? You’re okay.” 

Peter shakes his head. “It’s still my fault! I did this!” 

Tony pulls away, staring his son down until Peter is forced to meet his gaze. Matching brown eyes exchanging contact, and behind the worry and fear stewing in Tony, Peter can see the love and honesty. He would trust that face any day, so he has no choice to trust what his father says next. 

“Bubba, look at this,” Tony waves a hand at the demolished bridge and city streets behind them. “You, Peter Parker Stark, did  _ not _ do this. Beck did this. A man who decided to take out his unchecked, juvenile rage on a child.  _ You _ did not destroy the bridge. You  _ saved _ it. Thanks to you people are still alive; people that will get to go home and see their families today. You took down Beck and made sure no one could be hurt by him again.” 

Peter has stopped sobbing by now, but he still sniffs. Matching tears roll down his cheeks. “But I gave him the glasses that made it so that he could attack the city.” 

Tony sighs, but it’s not angry. It’s sad and tired. “Yeah, you did. You made a mistake, but we all make mistakes. I don’t blame you for giving them away, though. Fury was never supposed to give those to you. That was way too much responsibility, and it makes sense that you would hand them over to someone you thought could handle them… Sweetheart, I don’t blame you for any of this, and neither does anyone else.” 

Tony reaches up a thumb and wipes away stray tears. Peter nuzzles into the calloused palm. 

“Do you believe me?” Tony asks. 

Peter nods, and then after a moment, he says, “I believe you.” 

Tony smiles. “Good. Now, shove over. That blanket doesn't seem to be doing you any good, and I need my Peter-Hugs.” 

Peter chuckles, and judging by the way his father’s eyes light up, he was assuming that was just what the man needed. They both curl up over the fabric; Tony’s arms wrapping around his child’s shoulders. A tiny, satisfied sigh escapes Peter’s mouth. 

When Peter peeks one eye open, he can see Happy standing a couple dozen yards away. The man’s face -- which is usually adorned with a scowl -- is broken into a half-smile. Peter wondered what exactly his uncle was thinking about. 

He wondered if he still saw Peter as that small child he used to be. As that baby curled up in his father’s arms; the same arms that held him in that photo that was taken the day he was born. The photo that sits in Tony’s workshop and is adored by everyone who enters. 

But eventually, as Peter melts into Tony’s embrace and allows his eyes to slip back closed, he doesn't care what anyone thinks right now. Because in Tony’s arms, the sound of his dad’s steady heartbeat in his ears, this is the only place he needs to be. 

This is home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that this fic is finished, I'm gonna go back and start writing baby-Peter and dad-Tony.   
> I know how much people like those, and I enjoy writing them... so win-win! 
> 
> Anyway, comments and kudos would be greatly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and reviews make my week!


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